


Pretend

by Tetrisblock



Series: The Fakes [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Death, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, Immortals, Immortals AU, Violence, Weapons, i'm tryna tag shit without getting spoilery u feel me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4380797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tetrisblock/pseuds/Tetrisblock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff Ramsey is in the middle of a crisis.  He died and came back to life, his crew is dead or they left him, and he has no idea what to do.  Jacklyn "Jack" Patillo tries to help him.</p><p>This spells the beginning of The Fake AH Crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fear Might Be the Death of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing about a million other things, yet here I am, writing this. Also, it's multi-chaptered! On a whim!! I'm a mess lmao. Hope you enjoy, though. This is just kind of a headcanon I had while reading other Immortals!Fake AH Crew stuff.

It's been a month and it's only now hitting Geoff Ramsey. It's been a month since he died and he came back to life.

 

“Jack. Jaaaaack. _Jack_!” Geoff whined, trying to get the attention of the person sitting across the table from him. The two are sitting in Geoff's luxury apartment, the bottle of brandy sitting next to Geoff, who has had more than he probably should have at 2 pm, while Jack's glass remained half filled. She was preoccupied by a magazine that she found lying around, flipping through it's colorful pages absentmindedly.

 

“What? Sorry, kind of zoned out there,” Jack admitted, setting down the magazine in front of her. She crossed her legs and tapped her fingers on the hardwood table.

 

“Jesus, I'm having a mental breakdown over, you know, being fucking brought back to life and being the last one of my crew and you zone out? I'm spilling my guts here and you just – I... I don't – fuck, man!” he cried, slamming his forehead against the table, with his glass still in hand. “What the fuck do I do? Everyone's sayin' I'm this Kingpin when I have no _idea_ what I'm doing!” he whined, throwing his head back melodramatically. He was having a crisis and Jack wasn't being any kind of help.

 

His crew – former crew, he supposed – were almost completely taken out about a month ago. They were in the middle of heist and everything went to utter _shit_ , almost everyone Geoff had gotten to known perished before his eyes. The bodies of his crew, the bodies of his _friends_ , they lay there motionless and bloodied. He thought that would have been the worst thing to happen, but the realization came all too soon that _he died. He felt himself die and bleed out just like they all did yet there he stood, looking out over the dead as if nothing happened to him_. Not a scratch on his body, nothing was wrong yet everything was. Not everyone in his crew got got that day, and so he had been chosen to lead. Like hell, did he lead them. He either drove them away or they died. He pushed this memories – no, all these memories – to the back of his brain. He pushed back the thought that he died and came back as far away as he could.

 

Today was the day the memory was brought back to him, the day his brain decided he needed to deal with it. Today was the day he realized that something may be wrong.

 

Something is wrong. He wasn't normal, he had to deal with, he had to know what was fucking going on. _What the hell did this mean and why did it have to happen to him?_

 

“Jack, what the fuck do I do? I'm going to go _insane,_ what do I do now? Everyone's fucking gone and I – I fucking came back from the dead! Do you think you can be any sort of fucking help right now!” Geoff heaved, struggling to get the words out. He pushed himself out of his seat, gripping his hair and closing his eyes as tightly as possible. Maybe if he just wished this away, it wouldn't be real. Maybe this is God's way of fucking with him in Heaven? Maybe he's been dead this entire time and none of this is real.

 

 _God, I swear on everything if you are fucking with me right now I don't appreciate it because I think I'm going insane. God please fucking give me an answer, is this real? Is this a dream? Am I dead?_ All these thoughts tangled together like the earbuds that were in the back pocket of his slacks.

 

“Calm down, Geoff. Are you sure you...died?” Jack questioned, finally answering to Geoff's whines and existential crisis. She uncrossed her legs, locking eyes with his. He ceased up, hands still gripping his hair and the expression of a confused toddler stuck on his long face.

 

“I – I...yes, I fucking died! It's kind of hard not knowing the feeling of death, say the bright light and suddenly everything turned black. Then, I was back as if I wasn't just fucking shot in the chest four times. Yeah, I fucking _died_ ,” He snapped. His heart beat was too fast, he was sweating too much for someone who had an air conditioned apartment, and all his lines were visible.

 

“Well, I guess so then,” Jack added quietly, looking away from the man.

 

“I don't know what to do, Jack,” Geoff started weeping into his hands as he plopped back down into his chair.

 

Jack sighed, gently standing up and pushing her chair back in. She walked quietly over to him, placing a cautious hand on his shoulder. “This isn't the only time I've heard this happening,” she mentioned quietly.

 

Geoff looked up, tears smudged on his face, the feeling of disbelief hitting him like a wall of bricks. “ _What?_ ” he muttered at first, but he clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. “ _WHAT?”_ he bellowed, exasperated. In one fluid movement, he was stood up and was gripping at the front of Jack's turquoise aloha shirt, his face mere inches from hers. _How dare she just mention this now? Make me seem like a fucking idiot?_ These were the only thoughts jumping around in his head now.

 

Her expression hardened as she placed a hand on his chest to push him away. “Calm down and let me explain before you attack me, alright?” she commanded, giving a final push against his chest as he let go of her shirt. The two of them sigh, shaking their heads a bit. “Alright, so I heard – _heard_ ,” she emphasized before she continued. “There's a guy that experienced the same thing. Said that he had died and came back, he said he even saw his own _body_ , if you believe that, and he was perfectly fine.

 

I didn't hear this directly, though, so it may just be a bunch of garbage made up by some kid, but, I don't know that for certain. It could be real,” she admitted, glancing at Geoff quickly as she sat on the edge of the table.

 

“Alright, alright, that _may_ answer that question but I still don't know what to _do_ now. My crew is dead, everyone expects me to this fearless, competent kingpin because I'm the 'lone survivor' when really I have no idea what I'm doing.” His eyes were downcast, looking into his empty palms, as if that would give him the answer he needed.

 

“Pretend,” she said simply, not looking at him but instead out the large window. It had a view of Los Santos. The sky was dark and dreary, seemingly appropriate for this conversation, one may think.

 

“Pretend? Pretend, what? That I know what I'm doing?” Geoff asked, turning to the woman who really shouldn't be sitting on the table but was.

 

“Exactly. What if you were...immortal, Geoff? You'd be unstoppable. You'd become the greatest kingpin that Los Santos already believes you are,” Jack beamed, allowing a small smile come to her face as she glanced down at Geoff. He was still worried beyong belief, but he gave a small chuckle as he thought over the possibility.

 

 _Geoff Lazer Ramsey, the unstoppable, immortal kingpin of Los Santos. The most fear man in all of San Andreas._ The idea sounded incredible. He could give it a shot, it could actually work.

 

“I think I might need a crew, then, if I want to become the most badass, immortal kingpin in Los Santos, then,” he decided, nodding to Jack. Jack stood up and grabbed her glass, some brandy still in it. Geoff refilled both glasses and they toast, taking a gulp. Jack's face soured slightly, maybe taking too much in at once, but smiled through it. Geoff let at a satisfied sigh, nearly finishing his glass in one gulp. It was kind of concerning but hey, the man just got over the fact that he may be immortal and everyone in his crew is dead or gone, so it's best to cut him some slack for it.

 

“Let's find the best out there, Jack. Let's try some others who're immortal, that way we're unstoppable together. You in, Jack?” Geoff asked, leaning forward on the table. His eyes fluttered, thinking about all the possibilities of this. He could become unstoppable.

 

“Of course I am, boss.”

 


	2. I'm Not Sure If I Can See This Ever Stopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Convincing people to join a new crew isn't as easy as it seems.

Months of preparation, months of research and learning went into planning this. Who even plans out forming a criminal group? Still, the type of crew that Geoff and Jack planned on forming needed to be precise, distinguished, unbreakable. This crew needed to be the essence of perfect, if only for Geoff's well being. He wouldn't make it through seeing another crew fall to pieces like the last one. He needed to cement into the people's brains that he wasn't a person anyone could fuck with under any circumstances. He needed people with similar backgrounds, views, and reputations.

 

He, along with Jack, desperately hunted down people who were immortal.

 

That idea of being immortal hadn't sat with Geoff well when he first heard it, having another mini panic attack after Jack left. _Am I really immortal?_ The possibilities haunted him for days, and he was stuck in denial.

 

He was violently snapped out of his denial. A week went by in denial – _fuck this shit I'm not immortal, what do you take me as, some kind of fool –_ and he died for a second time. He was out by Blaine County, meaning to hike up Mount Chiliad for the day, just to get away from his thoughts. It wasn't the strenuous journey up the mountainside, but rather the climbing back down that got him this time. He was walking one moment down, and the next, he was tumbling down as if he was in a pinball machine. A solid hit to the head was enough to kill him for a second time. It was one hell of a way to confirm suspicions of having everlasting life.

 

“This kid isn't going to trust us, so, weapons loaded and body armor, right?” Geoff wanted to confirm, turning to Jack as he slipped his blazer on. He straightened his tie once again, making this the 17 th  time since Jack came over. Jack kept track as she watched him from behind, only catching glimpses of his face in the large mirror that Geoff stood inches away from.

 

“You tell me, Geoff.” Jack replied, taking a stand and resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Plus, you already have body armor on,” she added, patting him on the back before exiting the room.

 

“Right,” he mumbles to himself, shaking away his nerves. Why was he nervous? He can't die, so he should be radiating with confidence. He should feel like if someone were to stand too close to him, they could actually feel the confidence overflowing in him. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. He blinked his eyes back open, staring down his own reflection. His downturn eyes brooding, his hair was messy and dark, and his expression became neutrally tired.

 

“Catch,” Jack said quickly, tossing a heavy pistol towards Geoff, who just came out of the bedroom. Geoff caught it, having to lean forward quite a bit in order to do so. He spun it a couple times, just to show off a bit. Jack wasn't looking, and even if she was, she wouldn't have cared.

 

“Thanks. Should we take something a bit...bigger?” Geoff questioned, cocking his head a bit. You can never be sure what kind of gun you might need to bring to a job interview.

 

“We're not planning on _killing_ the kid, are we?” she countered with another question, her eyebrows scrunching together.

 

“If we did our jobs, we'd make sure he _can't_ die, Jack. Remember the whole 'make a crew of immortals' that you came up with? If he's legit, he'll be fine,” he assured her, retrieving another gun from gun safe.

 

“Alright, alright. My car or yours?” she asked, already out the door of the aparment.

 

“Your car,” he responded without hesitation, locking the apartment behind him.

 

“I'm driving then.”

 

“Yep.”

 

 

The meeting place was the construction site in the city. It may not seem like the type of place to meet someone to interview them for a potential job, but it suited their cause. Also, if the kid – _god damn it what is his name, whatever, jack will remember –_ came prepared, it may not take too long to decide to hire him or not.

 

Jack sighed, arms now resting on top of the steering wheel. “If you wanna just check over the kid's profile again before we go 'in', it's in the glove department,” Jack mentioned, putting quotation marks around 'in' as if it wasn't obvious that there wasn't actually a building to go into.

 

Taking a few glances over the file – containing a name, alias, age, 'specialty', arrest record, previous work, a way to contact him, and a blurry picture of the person they would be meeting today – and nods. “Michael Jones, huh,” he murmured to himself, trying to recall if he's heard of him before. He feels like he may have, but then again, Michael or Jones weren't exactly uncommon names. He won't discredit the kid if he had, though.

 

“So, I included what he specializes in so we can be cautious around it. Now, what is it?” Jack quizzed him, making sure he actually paid attention to everything in the file. Jack put that together herself, damnit! She had to piece together bits of information from about a million different sources, sometimes the information not adding up and having to figure that out. Michael's profile wasn't the only one she had to put together, either.

 

“Wait, was I supposed to pay attention to that?” Geoff questioned, getting the profile ripped away from his grasp. Jack shot him a death glare, she will not tolerate her hard work being ignored. “I'm _kidding,_ Jack! I'm kidding, calm down before you kill me – oh wait,” he said, putting his arms up in defense and a goofy grin on his face. “Okay, we'll look out for stickies and whatever else he can explode,” he finally said seriously, his eyebrows still raised in slight fear that she could do worse than kill him.

 

“Good,” she let out a sigh of distress, not sure if he's taking this as seriously as he should. Even if he can't die, she's pretty sure _she_ could get herself killed. She has to look out for herself in this situation.

 

“After you, Ms. Pattillo,” Geoff offered, opening the door for her, bowing his head. She let herself chuckle a bit at the gesture.

 

“Why, thank you, Mr. Ramsey,” she thanked him, giving a fake curtsy. She elbowed him in the side, chuckling, as they walked over to the bottom floor of the construction site. They both had pistols in their hands, and Geoff came prepared with his SMG. This allowed her to relax just slightly, to not worry that she was going to die today.

 

The worry came back as soon as they entered the official site. Bullets started to fly around them erratically, the source of the gunfire uncertain. Geoff yanked Jack to hid behind a pillar. Geoff peaked out, trying to determine where the shooting was coming from.

 

“Geoff, we can handle this,” Jack whispered, tightening the grip on her pistol. “Watch my back.”

 

“Jack, _Jack,_ no, come back here!” he urged, his eyes bulging out as she came out from behind him, pistol raised and ready to fire. She moved towards the middle, where Michael could see her from wherever she was hiding. “Damn it, Jack!” he muttered under his breath, praying that nothing happens to her. He remained in his spot, however, hanging back until something was sorted out.

 

“We're not here to fight you! We came to talk,” She called, looking at her surroundings. He had to be here somewhere, she just needed to draw him out.

 

“Yeah, we'll see about that,” a voice hollered back. The voice had a distinct New Jersey accent, about mid-pitch, and came from behind her to the right. She spun on her heel in reaction, pointing her pistol where she thought his voice came from.

 

A figure stepped out of dark. He was a man of average height, with a stocky build. His brown locks started to curl around his squared off jaw and a pair of glasses was perched on the edge of his nose. His brow was furled and his lip turned up in a crooked grin. He certainly was the man that they were looking for. A pistol hung out of the pocket of his blue jeans, though, the Carbine Rifle pointed directly at Jack was more of a concern.

 

The two stared at each other, not making a single movement for several moments. They were examining each other from head to toe, trying to find a sign of a physical weakness that they could exploit.

 

“You aren't here to talk,” Michael breaks the silence, eyes focused on Jack. Jack cocked her head, furrowing her brows at the accusation.

 

“Why wouldn't I be?” she questioned, eyes flicking between his eyes and his weapon. The air felt electric, like if a wrong move was made, everything would become engulfed in flames.

 

_I need to fucking do something, I need to do something,_ that was the obvious thought in Geoff's mind. He had no time to think through his actions, he just needed to start acting right now. He peered out behind the pillar, checking to see where Michael's eyes were. Those harsh, brown eyes were locked onto Jack. Michael looked as though he was a predator eyeing it's next meal. Though, the situation was more of two predators who are waiting for the other to move towards the prey so they can attack.

 

Geoff's only move was to get behind Michael and stabilize the situation. Stabilize as in put a pistol to Michael's skull. Geoff dashed to the pillar nearest Michael. He was only feet away from Michael now. Only feet away from potentially threatening the life of a possible employee. Only feet away from potentially putting a bullet in the kid's brain, if needed.

 

What Geoff couldn't have notice in his scurry from post to post, Michael saw it out of the corner of his eye. _Fucking knew those hipster glasses were fake._

 

“That's why,” Michael said, almost quiet enough that Jack couldn't hear. Michael took his left hand off of his weapon, raised it in the air and shook it from side to side. Jack's eyes became frantic, not knowing what to make of the action. “ _Go,”_ Michael murmured.

 

Geoff's eyes widened as he thought the actions through. Full speed didn't seem fast enough. Those feet away from Michael seemed like miles. Everything went in slow motion. Geoff's gut took over his brain. He raised his pistol, ready to bash the fucker's skull in.

 

Jack turned her head towards the building across the street. She didn't know why, she felt like she _needed_ to look there. She felt like she saw something in that building. A small, vaguely pink object protruding from a window a few stories up. That's what she thought she saw before everything went black.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, finally! Sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoyed this, and I hope you like my art at the end. I'm planning on doing that for the rest of this fic.


	3. Shaking Hands With The Dark Part Of My Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff deals with Michael. Jack comes back and has a crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay woo! this chapter was rather fun to write!! i guess i like writing dramatic scenes lmao. anyway, hope you enjoy! no picture for this chapter, sorry :

Emotions surged through Geoff faster than the speed of god damn light. The only feeling that he was listening to now was white hot _rage._ A feeling that if this punk didn't die by his hands that very second, he may just very well implode.

 

His pistol was raised and pounded against Michael's skull in a fluid motion. The impact made a horrific cracking noise, but to Geoff, it sounded like a justification. Michael's body crumbled up as he twisted, just like Jack's did, but god  _damn_ it the kid wasn't fucking  _dead._ That would have been too easy. Michael whined at Geoff's feet, a hand reaching up to cover where his attacker pistol whipped him.

 

Gripping the front of his t-shirt, Geoff made sure to get his point across by bring the face of this  _kid_ as close as possible to his, their noses brushing each other.

 

“You have 10 seconds to convince me not to fucking execute you right now,  _boy_ ,” Geoff growled, fury burning in his eyes. He  _should_ kill him. Hell, he should have been dead a minute ago.

 

“Well, I can't fucking die. That do it for you?” Michael smirked, blood running down his face, into his eye. He coughed, spitting blood at Geoff's face. Geoff grimaced, bearing his teeth as he threw the man back down on the ground. Michael let out another groan and a cough. Geoff wiped his face and spat at Michael, who was still on the ground just  _smiling_ . He was chuckling a little, too. What an unbelievable  _asshole_ .

 

Then the moment came. The moment Geoff saw Jack's lifeless body lying on the ground in front of him. Blood puddled around her red hair, and a prominent hole between her eyes  _screamed_ at him. His eyes bulged and his chest heaved and his breath stopped. He let this happen. He let this fucking happen. He let this fucking happen to  _Jack_ who's not  _coming_ back like he did.

 

“Well, actually, I  _can_ die, but I just come back again in a few moments,” Michael added, that stupid smirk still on his face.

 

“Good,” Geoff responded simply. He crouched, pointed his pistol and shot him point blank. He planned for when he came back to kill him  _again_ . Maybe he'll do it a couple more times. Who knows, maybe Geoff will never stop killing him.

 

“Fuck you,” Michael's voice shouted from one of the higher floors on the construction site.

 

Geoff picked the pockets of the dead man in front of him. Hey, why not? Money that surely won't be mis – oh wait, he will. Kid wouldn't be stupid enough to challenge him to it, though. It was only about $200 in cash. He shoved the money into his back pocket and waited for him to walk down to the bottom floor so that he can shoot him again.

 

Geoff had his pistol pointed at Michael as he ran down the stairs. He stopped, hands slowly raised above his head.

 

“L-look! I didn't have anything to do with that! I-I have no idea who did that, really,” Michael begged, that smirk returning to his face. Geoff lowered his weapon – god knows why – and let that sink in.

 

“Don't fuck with me!” Geoff warned, raising his pistol once again. Michael's face didn't even change, he was probably used to this sort of action by now. In the file that was complied by...whatever, it didn't matter who it was made by, but it said that he's been living here for a while, taking small jobs and working his way up to being a gun-for-hire by the bigger crew around. Guns being pointed at him probably haven't scared him in ages, especially being as he wasn't mortal.

 

“Honestly! You gotta believe me!” Michael continued, adding a nervous chuckle in. Geoff sighed, lowering his weapon again.

 

“Let's talk,” Geoff offered, motioning for Michael to come closer.

 

 

The light around was  _blinding_ . The bustling of people and cars that was faint became clear. Is this heaven?

 

No, god damn it,  _no_ , the streets of Los Santos was certainly not heaven. Blinking several times, Jack finally opened her eyes to fully see the situation around her. She was lying against a hot building side on a street corner. Pedestrians stared at her for a second, but continued on there way because it's most likely the strangest thing they've even seen that day.

 

Jack panicked. She touches the burning pavement beneath her, she jolted her head around to make doubly sure this wasn't some fucked up version of heaven that fate has cursed her with. No, this was certainly not heaven because she just saw a guy get mugged by a kid across the street. She touched her head, her shoulders, her waist, her thighs, every part of her to make sure she wasn't damned to be a ghost. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed the nearest person near her. Gripping his shirt, she begged him to feel her, make sure she was real. The guy shook fear and called her a freak. So, he definitely saw her and her grip was real. She was a real person, right here, right now.

 

She shouldn't be. She should be greeting the pearly gates right now, she should be enjoying eternal peace. Here she was, being a real human being and very clearly alive.

 

Her heart started racing as her hands began to shake. Her eyes became wide and knowing. She wants to say something, she wants to say every thought she had right now aloud, but nothing came out. Her hands gripped her hair tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut. Heaven's just fucking with her, or maybe this was hell? That made more sense than what she's thinking right now.

 

_Oh my fucking god, I'm immortal,_ that thought made no sense. This is Hell, right? It'd make sense. Her breathing became jagged and labored. Her legs gave out from under her, falling back into the place she found herself. She curled into herself, allowing the sense of panic rush over her and pass.

 

She should explore, see if this was actually hell. Did hell recreate Los Santos for her? Trap her in this place forever? Would it just loop over and over again? It'd make sense – there are terrible people everywhere, so it can become a hell on earth for most.

 

This just felt so... _normal_ . It didn't 'feel' like hell or heaven or whatever it was supposed to be. It felt real. It shouldn't feel real, she should  _not be real and alive because she was shot between the fucking eyes._

 

She accepted death, too.  Jacklyn Shannon Pattillo had it coming – an informant like herself was bound to find some information that was meant to be kept secret. It was inevitable, really. So, when it came to it, a bullet to the brain did quite nicely.

 

She accepted that she died and that she'd never return to earth or say goodbye to anyone who actually fucking cared about her existence that she hadn't cut off yet. But this? This bullshit? Being in Los Santos again? What the  _ fuck _ is happening?

 

She hadn't even noticed that tears were streaming down her face. She brought her knees up to her forehead, burying her face into her bare thighs. She was dead. She  _ is _ dead, for all she knew.

 

A low scream escaped her lips, shouting at the sky. “What the  _ fuck! _ ” she raged, gripping her hair tightly. She grimaced, bearing her teeth to no one at all. Her chest heaved rapidly, nostrils flared. She sat there, back against the building, her legs crossed in front of her. Pedestrians now blatantly stared, stopping in their tracks for just a few seconds before walking around her as if she was toxic.

 

“Hey, move yer ass lady!” a rude stranger blurted, kicking her in the thigh. Her eyes became daggers as she snapped her head around to face him.

 

“Fuck you!” she spat, not looking to deal with this asshole. She was in the middle of a crisis, can't he fucking see that? This was bullshit.

 

“Bitch!” he replied, shoving his hands in his pocket and crossing the street. She wanted to chase him down, beat his ass and watch him  _ beg _ . This bullshit crisis was getting to her head. She would have brushed it off but remembered the face normally. Right now, she wanted to rip the head off anyone who dared look at her. She wanted to chug an entire bottle of whiskey. She wanted to flee and forget the outside world existed.

 

Her hands began to shake uncontrollably again. She brought her knees up to her chest and made herself as small as possible. She forgot that there were people, she forgot that she was real as she closed her eyes again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this!! it was originally going to include a loooooooooot more, but i'll leave that for the next chapter B) this was a mostly about jack and i reaaaally like writing that bit. hopefully i'll get on a better schedule for updating this?? probably not lol


	4. Hope You Haven't Left Without Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so i almost wrote this early except i didn't. so, here you go! it's almost 4 am when i'm posting this. whoops? a bunch of stuff happens this chapter because i didn't include it in the last chapter.
> 
> also some guest appearance of future characters? whaaaaaaat?

A case swung open, a sniper rifle being hastily thrown in. The owner takes a step back, hands resting behind his head and pacing the empty room. Of course, Michael didn't own up to his own bullshit. Of course.

 

The job shouldn't have been accepted in the first place. It was for purely precaution, even though Michael could hold his own. If Michael was honestly so worried, he could have lined the place with C4 or dynamite or whatever else explosive he could get his grabby little hands on. The sniper should have realized that his job to eliminate whoever was gaining intelligence on Michael and to lay all the blame on him when it happened. Now he has a target on his back and good god he could _see_ Ramsey right now. Everyone knew not to fuck with Ramsey, hell, he was the lone survivor of one the biggest gangs in Los Santos. Ramsey must have been with the red head, whoever she was.

 

“God damn it, Ray, what did you get yourself caught up in,” the sniper whispered to himself. He let out a heavy sigh he didn't know he had kept in and picked up his case. It'd be a stupid idea to confront Michael, but fuck it, he's not going to shoulder the blame of one of Ramsey's members death.

 

* * *

 

 

“Talk?” Michael asked warily, eyes flickering to his pistol for a millisecond. His hand hovered over his weapon. Michael wasn't looking to die 40 times tonight, but not only that, if he was to _shoot_ Ramsey successfully? If here were to _kill_ him? He'd become a celebrity among the crime ring. He would become the king of Los Santos.

 

Geoff wasn't blind, nor was he born yesterday. It was obvious what was coursing through Michael's head right now.

 

“Don't even think about it,” Geoff droned. Geoff motioned for the man to step closer to him. His eyes became tired and cold, the sooner he get this done, the sooner he could go home, drink until he blacks out, and mourn Jack in the morning.

 

Michael grimaced, he inched forward not wavering once in his stance.

 

“Close enough, whatever. I was considering you for a job, kid,” Geoff announced. He managed to look bored, look as though he was the one forced to meet with Michael.

 

“Drop the kid shit,” Michael warned. His eyes tried to pierce through Geoff, though, what a failure that was. Geoff remained to look uninterested. He shook his head, his eyes shut closed to try and regain himself. “Why have Carrot Top research me if it's just a job, then? You know exactly what I mean,” he added, his eyes back on Geoff.

 

“A permanent job, _kid_.” He was going to dig into him until he got angry. This started unintentionally, but it ended up disturbing him.

 

“Uhuh, right, _old man_ ,” Michael laughed it off, the grimace now replaced with that same shit-eating grin that he had before Geoff wiped it off him. Geoff only gave a eyeroll at the jab. He's heard worse from his own family, honestly, Michael was just playing now.

 

“I wasn't kidding. The job offer's still on the table,” Geoff pinched the bridge of his nose, another sigh escaping his lips. He laid his eyes on Jack's body once more, his shoulders slumped before he looked back at Michael. “If you'll excuse me...,” he began before he caught something out of the corner of his eyes. Purple hoodie, a pair of black jeans that _almost_ fit...

 

Geoff stayed, just because he could sense what was about to go down. The person in the purple hoodie and jeans that hung a little loose on them grabbed the back of Michael's jacket, trying to drag him so that they are facing each other. This is all while having their back turned to Geoff. Michael turned his head, his eyes widening slightly in reaction of _who_ had grabbed him and then immediately back to fierce, trying to shake free. The person turned their head, just enough for Geoff to get a glimpse of their profile.

 

“ _We're going to talk_ ,” the words were very clear despite being said through gritted teeth. Michael huffed, annoyance now taking the place of his focus. They dragged Michael behind the ramp in the corner, just where it was dark enough and far away enough that Geoff couldn't see them or hear whispering.

 

“What the _fuck_ , man?” well, the hooded figure certainly wasn't whispering. Geoff couldn't help but snicker at the exchange. There was a sound of a fist against skin, most likely Michael's face.

 

“God fucking _damn_ it, Brownman! You _know_ why I did it!” Michael shouted back. Geoff couldn't contain himself as he burst into uproarious laughter.

 

“Fuck off, you never told me it'd be one of _his_ people, you cocksucker!” Brownman continued, being to pace in small ovals.

 

“How was _I_ supposed to fucking know!” Michael's face contorted as he got angrier and angrier. He can certainly get angry.

 

Geoff wiped away a tear from his eye, his chuckling dying out as realization hit like a brick. Number one, Michael most certainly was the cause of Jack's death. Number two, the kid who just suckerpunched Michael was Brownman. _Brownman_ . That name felt familiar...but it didn't matter right now because the first one brought back the feeling of _rage_ and _agony_.

 

“Mother _fucker_!” Geoff screamed, interrupting the confrontation in front of him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, are you alright?” a sudden voice startled Jack. She opened her eyes once again to find a stranger crouched down in front of her. His sandy blond hair was flipped up in a fauxhawk and he sported expensive-looking sunglasses. He had a familiarity to him, but she couldn't put a finger on it.

 

“What?” she questioned. She blinked several times as she tried to figure out what was happening.

 

“I asked if you were alright,” he repeated, a very distinct accent she now recognized to be British. He tilted his head, his eyebrows scrunched together in concern.

 

“Not really,” she let out a distressed chuckle, her eyes drifting downwards. The man titled his sunglasses down his nose so he could see over them.

 

“Um, I mean, alright?” he seemed confused. He bit his lip, not sure of what to say next. “How long have you been sat here?” he continued, his eyebrows still scrunched.

 

“I honestly don't know,” she answered, eyes still downcast.

 

“I've been watching you for like, the past 5 minutes and you hadn't moved so I wanted to make sure that, you know, you were...,” he trailed off.

 

“Alive?” she let out another chuckle, the joke was one only she understood. She honestly couldn't answer if she was alive right now. “I'm fine, I just needed to...recollect myself. Kinda dealing with a very traumatic event and I just needed to rest.”

 

“Oh, alright. I'll be off, then,” he replied. He stood up from where he was crouched, stretching out his back much like a cat after a nap. And with that, he was gone.

 

“Guess I better go explore my never-ending hell, now,” she mumbled to no one. Her body creaked, having been sat for too long. She strolled down the sidewalk. Her eyes remained downcast, the sidewalk beneath her suddenly more interesting than the faces that pass by her.

 

A yell. A yell nearby that sounded _impossibly_ familiar. This voice definitely didn't belong in Hell. Well, actually, it _did_ , but she knew for the fact that this person _wasn't_ in Hell. God. Fucking. _Damn it_ . _God fucking damn it I'm alive_ , she screamed internally.

 

“Mother _fucker_ ,” she mimicked the cry of Geoff she heard.

 

* * *

 

 

The alarmed men in the corner underneath the ramp turned to each other with confused looks on their faces. They forgot all about fucking _Ramsey_ just _standing_ there, laughing at their argument. They were both _screwed_. They were both screwed if they didn't do something right now.

 

Too little, too late. The wrath of Geoff Ramsey engulfed the area as he stalked closer towards the men.

 

Their eyes flickered between each other and Ramsey. Brownman darted as fast he could away from the situation. Geoff didn't care about him, not now at least. His only worry was the lying cocksucker who stared at him with a deer-in-headlights expression.

 

There was two separate thuds behind him, and a groan escaping Brownman. Geoff turned to look at what had just occurred behind him, Michael obviously curious as he peered over Geoff's shoulder.

 

Two figures laid on the ground, Brownman flat on his back and another across from him, sitting on her knees.

 

She stood fully, dusted off the back of her shorts and caught Geoff's eye. Red, curly bob cut, soft, hazel eyes, a squared off jaw, a tropical shirt, and baby blue striped booty shorts.

 

“What did I miss?” Jack asked with a tilt of her head and scrunched eyebrows as she observed the scene before her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to edit this. i read it over and woooow did i miss some spelling mistakes! also added a few things, but now it's better. i may have missed a few things.....


	5. Claw Our Way Up Their System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes together, sort of.

 

“What did I miss?” Jack asked with a tilt of her head and scrunched eyebrows as she observed the scene before her.

 

Geoff stared, bewildered at who was standing there. He could _cry_ , he could _yell_ , he could _scream_ and _shout_ and _cry_ and _smile_. He could run up to the woman and hug her until her breath cut short and she would beg for him to put her down and stop squeezing her. He could do all those things, but now, he stood there and stared at her like she was some kind of two-headed freak.

 

She was back. My _god_ is she back and alive and healthy. She looked like nothing happened to her, like Geoff didn't just witness her being shot between the fucking eyes and hearing her dead body fall to the ground. The body was still there! The body of Jack motherfucking Pattillo was still _there_ and very, _very_ dead.

 

Silence fell over all of them. No one dared speak. They stared at her, acting as if they had never seen anything like it.

 

“ _Wonderful_ . Glad y'all explained everything, like what the _fuck happened to me, you sons of bitches_ ,” her tone switched from playful sarcasm to sinister at a blink of an eye. Her eyes stared directly at Michael. “Come here, asshole,” she called, directing the comment to Michael.

 

“Sweetcheeks, look, I didn't do any-,” Michael started, but was interrupted before he could finish.

 

“Shut the fuck up and quit the excuses, _Michael_ ,” she deadpanned as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Michael flinched, the sound of his own name shocking him. _God damn it how much does this woman know,_ he thought to himself. “Don't ever call me sweetcheeks. Or baby, or honey, or darling, cut the shit. You had your little _boytoy_ here snipe me. Now _come here_ ,” she commanded, motioning towards Brownman on the ground when referring to 'Michael's boytoy'. If looks could kill, Michael would be cremated and six feet under by now.

 

Geoff snickered once again, the choice of wording caught him off guard. Brownman managed to look highly offended when he finally chose to sat up.

 

“ _Boytoy_? Am I really a...,” Brownman murmured to himself, his bottom lip pouted.

 

“I'd _love_ to, but, I have things to attend to. Ya know, prior obligations,” Michael fibbed. He stepped back, his attempt at skirting the wall not being undetected. Jack continued to glare directly at Michael as he walked closer to the woman, knowing he had no choice. Hey, it was either listen or get arrested. He would rather choose to listen to the woman.

 

“Yeah, I better go, too. Turns out this _isn't_ the cafe! Whoopsie, just dumb tourist things,” Brownman desperately laughed as he stood up from his spot. He dusted off his back and began to inch away from Jack slowly.

 

“Who's the coward now?” Michael taunted as he stood near Geoff. Geoff let Jack do all the talking. Who was he to stop her? He just enjoyed the show as Jack picked them apart as if they were roadkill and she were a buzzard.

 

“You're not going _anywhere,_ Brownman. Or would your rather me call you Ray?” she barked, a pained expression overcoming the man's features as he looked back at her.

 

“God damn it, why should I even bother wearing a fucking mask if you know my name,” Ray mumbled only to himself, fiddling with the tight white cloth around his eyes. He stopped, hoping and praying at this point. Honestly, it would have been so much easier if she just stayed dead.

 

“You're surprisingly sort of pale for a guy who goes by Brownman,” she mused, she enjoyed it now that she knew she has the two men pinned. One 'anonymous' tip later, the two could wind up in behind bars for the rest of their days.

 

“Yeah, well, you're surprisingly alive for someone I sniped, bitch,” he retorted under his breath. Michael side-eyed him, as if warning the man who dared. _Ooh, boy, you're playing with fire now_ , Geoff couldn't help but think. Jack could be terrifying, he should know. She stared down the barrels of guns with a smile on her face on the regular. Remorse for a dead gangster was nonexistent, and even murdered civilians she couldn't bring herself to care all too much about.

 

She took two strides towards the boys and examined each carefully. Ray winced, a tiny sigh of relief escaping as her eyes rested on Michael finally. Michael's face tensed, hand clenched and hand readied over his pistol. Must be instincts for him.

 

No one uttered a word, no one moved for minutes. It felt like eternity, making Geoff and Ray grow concerned as the two glared at each other. The only movements was the rising of chests, in bated breath.

 

That eternity was interrupted as Michael fell back, blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. “Jesus _Christ_ ,” he complained, gripping his jaw. He propped himself up with an elbow, spitting blood out to his side.

 

“Nice,” Geoff whispered, a wicked grin spread across his face. It was good seeing this punk ass get suckerpunched for the second time in about 10 minutes. Jack smile fell as she released a sigh, rubbing her forehead with her palm.

 

“Let's go, please,” Jack pleaded. Her brain felt like it was going to explode. Too many emotions in a small amount of time – it screw with your head.

 

“Offer's still on the table, kiddo,” Geoff added before joining Jack's side. Ray looked down at Michael, a quizzical look overcoming his features.

 

“Oh, we were going to meet with you, Ray, at another time. We're looking for people, people who can... _withstand_ some damage, if you know what I mean,” Jack put lightly, crossing her arms. If she remember correctly, this 'Brownman', or Ray Narvaez Jr. was a top sniper around Los Santos and there were rumors he has arisen from the dead.

 

“You mean immortal,” Ray replied, expression neutralizing as if this was just a normal everyday conversation. Jack nodded, the word still odd to her. _Just how many people are afflicted with this bullshit? Maybe we're cursed to live forever because we're horrible excuses for human beings who can point a gun at a innocent person and pull the trigger as if it were just another function to survive_ , the thought bounced around in her head.

 

“You take the job, you'll have a crew who will watch your back-,” Ray turned his head to glare daggers at Michael, who simply offered a toothy grin, “you'll be paid better, and you'll get in on the big heists. I'm talkin' banks, drug cartels, you name it. Those freelance jobs you work are nothing compared to what you could do.”

 

The offer was tantalizing, almost too good to be true. Though, Michael and Ray _knew_ it was possible. Ramsey was practically already a _king_ without having done much since the fall of the last crew he was part of. Working with Ramsey would be a dream come true.

 

“We'll think on it, Ramsey,” Michael responded, speaking for the both of them.

 

“Till we meet again,” Geoff left off, Jack already ahead of him by a few yards. With that, they left the two to simmer in thought.

 

“Well, today has been awful. Nearly got my head chewed off by a redhead,” Ray muttered to himself, looking down at Michael who still hadn't stood up.

 

“We've been given a chance at a job, like an actual fucking job. We can quit freelancing for shitty paychecks,” Michael offered. He pushed himself off the ground, now even with the other. “That's not so awful.”

 

“You know what's awful?”

 

“Me?”

 

“How'd you fucking guess?”

 

* * *

 

 

Jack slid in the driver's sit without a word. She rested her head back, letting out a sigh that turned into a groan. This day was awful.

 

“Let's get drunk,” Jack proposed, hands resting on the steering wheel.

 

“Sounds good to me,” Geoff sighed, his head thudding against the dashboard.  "So, boytoy, huh?" Geoff chuckled, not bothering to pick up his head.  It might just roll off, with the way things went today

 

"When else am I ever going to be able to use that word?" Jack laughed with him.  

 

The two sat, laughing at themselves for a bit before it died down to nothingness.  They both felt emotionally drained, as they should.  Jack died right in front of Geoff and then came back.  That wasn't supposed to happen, not to normal people.  Though, they never claimed to be normal people.  A life like theirs' takes normalcy and crushes it up like a pill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I like how this chapter came out, but I think I just needed to move on from this arc (?).


	6. Don't Forget About Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael joins Geoff and Jack in the crew, and they enjoy getting together in the mornings. A surprise visitor knocks on the door and shocks Jack and Geoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say I really, really enjoyed writing this chapter!!! I have been looking forward to this chapter and I'm glad I finally got to write it!

It's been 3 months since the first interviews had been completed. The others up to this point have been a complete bust, Jack and Geoff learning that it was just kids making shit up because of some rumors they heard around. They knew it wouldn't turn out good if they actually decided to go to the strip club in the city or another popular place, especially with no weapons or precautions. They needed careful people, not some 20 year olds who would die robbing a convenience store.

 

Michael accepted the job within a couple of weeks, showing up at one of Geoff's warehouses, which he inherited from his old crew. A lovely note, written using magazine clippings that said “Meet me here tomorrow at 5 and we'll talk” and nothing else was left inside on the floor. Geoff couldn't help but smirk as he watched the footage of Michael sneaking in to leave it.

 

It was just the three of them now.

 

None of them have reported seeing Ray, but the community still had it's infamous Puerto Rican sniper around. Somewhere.

 

"He'll come to us," Geoff assured everyone, but mostly himself.

 

"Yeah, sure, and I'll become the fucking Queen of England," Michael couldn't help but grumble. Ray wouldn't beg for a job, that wasn't how he operated. It was just them for a while.

 

* * *

 

Mornings are when the three got together and just talked like everyday civilians. Michael and Geoff got along swimmingly, as if Jack dying at the hands of him never happened. Jack felt a little more distanced from the man, unsurprisingly, but she warmed up to him slowly.

 

“Have I told you about this one woman I met on a job once? Well, actually, I've seen her more than a few times by now, but whatever, not important,” Michael began, bits of toast flying out as he spoke. Geoff stabbed his cereal with his spoon, looking Michael in the eye with a crooked grin. Michael's stories weren't all that exciting, but the way he told them made it seem like they were the craziest shit to ever be seen on Earth. “Anyway, I was dumping gasoline on the floor of some poor sap's office in Texas, and then in walks this redhead with a cup of coffee! We just stared at each other for a bit, and I was like,” he pauses to act out the scene, putting his hands up in the air,“'Look, you don't say anything, I'll pay you some money' and she was like,” he paused again, clearing his throat and adjusting his voice. “'So you're gonna bribe me for not telling someone for something I was going to do anyway?' and I was like 'Whoa whoa whoa! What?' Meanwhile, she's still just standing there with this mug with a cat on it and I'm like 'God fucking damn it, idiot double hired didn't he' and she just sighed. Then she was like 'I have been planning to go about this shit for like, 2 weeks, bro!' and I said 'So, you wanna light it up for me then?' and then she just slumped her shoulders all sad and said 'Yeah I guess, but you owe me'. I said 'Sure, whatever, wanna go to Rudy's later?' and that's the story of how I went on a date with a girl assigned to the same job as me.”

 

“Holy shit, dude! And you said you've seen her a few more times after that? What's her name, dude?” Geoff pressed, leaning towards him, who was sitting across from him. Michael took another chomp at his half finished piece of toast.

 

“Yeah, I'm kinda curious now,” Jack chuckled, stirring a scoop of sugar into her coffee.

 

“Yeah, turns out, she was just there for a couple of months, and that she lives right here in Los Santos, the city of dreams and fuck-ups,” Michael leaned back in the chair, a nonchalant smile baring his teeth. “She'd probably kill me if I told you her name without knowing you personally, you know, gotta keep that shit confidential till you're trusted. You may know her as BlackCat, or something else cat related, because she's a fucking cat lady, what can I say.”

 

“Oh, I've heard of BlackCat from some people, actually. I don't know a lot about her, but apparently she's a pretty okay freelancer among the freelancing community,” Jack recalled, her hand on her chin in thought.

 

“Yeah, she's pretty cool. Likes to fucking putt around when she's doin' her job, though,” Michael said, a soft smile coming to his face. Geoff couldn't help but smile in response like a proud father when his son finds a girl he likes.

 

“So, wait, what happened when you went to get paid by the guy? He definitely didn't expect to pay both of you, right?” Jack asked, now leaning forward slightly to listen to Michael intently.

 

“Oh god, yeah, so we talked about that when we went to Rudy's. She was like 'Wanna go in together and demand to be paid double because of this bullshit?' I was like 'Hell yeah, baby!' So, we ended up needing to knock him around a bit, which was awesome to watch because Lin-” his eyes went wide as he stopped mid-name, thankful he stopped himself. “ _ BlackCat _ had heels on and she stabbed him in the hand. Honestly, it was one of the best days I've ever had,” Michael continued, leaning back against the counter with his elbows. His smile was even wider now, his eyes glittering as he recalled the memory.

 

A comfortable silence consumed the air for a few moments. “So, have you gone on any more dates with her?” Geoff broke the silence.

 

“Well, I mean, I-” he started, being interrupted by rapid knocking on the front door of the apartment. Jack shot him a look, saying 'were you expecting company' with only her eyes. Geoff stood up cautiously, grabbing the pistol that was hidden in the bottom cabinet and shoving it in the back pocket of his jeans. He stepped towards the door slowly, the knocking becoming impatient now.

 

“Yes?” He asked through the door, hand on the handle. The knocking stopped as he waited for a response.

 

“Open it up, you bellend,” a familiar voice sounded from the other side.  _ Oh, oh my god. _

 

“No...,” Geoff muttered to himself, eyes growing wide in realization.  _ No, it can't be, it's not true, is it? He's been dead for months now _ , _ it's someone screwing with you _ . His mind betrayed his thoughts as he swung it open to see none other but Gavin fucking Free standing before him.

 

“Guess who's back, bitches!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Gavin?” Jack shouted incredulously, standing up to get a better look at the lad. He's changed. His face was speckled with stubble, a pair of shades sat neatly on his larger than average nose, and he sported a dress shirt and an expensive watch. He wasn't the same kid that wore ugly polos and tattered jeans. He could stand to get a bit of a trim, his wild locks flying upwards in a lazy fauxhawk.

 

“Yeup, it's me, Jackie! Miss me?” the Brit confirmed, skipping steps as he walked towards the kitchen.

 

Geoff still looked dumbfounded, mouth hung open and eyes wide.

 

“You're supposed to be  _ dead _ ,” Geoff's voice cracked.

 

His heart shattered when he saw him, perfectly fine and dandy. He took care of this kid ever since he moved to America. He thought he died almost a year ago. He let Gavin go and continued on with his life. Gavin didn't die, he left, he left and never bothered to contact Geoff to let him know that his little British ass was fine until right now.

 

“You're supposed to dead, you piece of _shit!_ ” Geoff spat. He stomped towards the Brit, eyes wild and teeth bared in a grimace. He gripped his collar and yanked him closer. Their noses brushed against each other, and Gavin's hitched breath felt hot on Geoff's face. “You fucking _asshole_ , I should throw you out right now,” he threatened through gritted teeth.

 

Gavin's eyes searched the room for anyone who could help. The curly-haired stranger looked about a helpful as a stunned rabbit, so he was out of the question. His eyes found Jack, who simply shook her head and backed away. This wasn't her fight, she knew that.

 

“L-l-look, Geoff! I can explain, just calm down, please!” He begged, the fear settling in on his features. He set his hands on Geoff's shoulders, trying to push himself away gently without perturbing him too much. Geoff sighed, gaze still focused on Gavin as he shoved the other backwards. He stumbled, but regained his balance after a few steps back.

 

“What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck is that?” Michael burst out, still in his seat just trying to eat his toast. Jack shrugged, taking a seat next to him.

 

“I can explain what happened,” Jack assured him as she put a hand on his shoulder. It would become confusing once he got to what was supposed to be the end of the story, though.

 

A heavy sigh weighed Geoff down visibly. He rubbed his palm into his forehead, a failed attempt at relieving his sudden throbbing headache. He plopped down on the couch near the kitchen, hands folded and elbows in his lap.

 

“Explain,” he commanded, gesturing towards the chair across from him. Gavin climbed over the arm of it, sitting cross-legged on it. Jack rolled her eyes, disbelief overcoming her as Geoff didn't even flinch at the action.

 

“Alright, now, don't freak out, please? I don't know if you'll understand this, but, it's true!” Gavin warned, waiting for a response or at least a reaction.

 

“Just get on with it, I have shit to do and I still have half a notion to kill you myself,” Geoff responded, his words holding only a bit of truth. He didn't have anything actually planned today.

 

* * *

 

“So, you're saying that this British fuck came to America to escape his parents, Geoff took care of him for _years_ , he got involved in the business, and then he died like, 11 months ago?” Michael quirked his eyebrow as he recapped the story.

 

“Yeah, that sums it up, up until now,” Jack muttered, a concern glance towards the two in the living room.

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin leaned forward, his bright eyes drooped and his expression pained. He sighed, leaned back into the chair and ran his fingers through his quaffed hair.

 

“So, I...really did die that night,” he mentioned, eyes adverted from Geoff. “I remember I was blown to smithereens! I woke up around the corner, and I left.”

 

“Yeah, I knew the part where you fucking blew yourself up, I had to watch you do it,” Geoff uttered, a heavy sigh leaving his own lips as the memory replayed itself. “You fucking ditched me as if I was a used condom. I took care of your ass for 3 years, you piece of shit, and you couldn't even leave a god damn voicemail saying you were alive?”

 

“I didn't ditch you! Well, I did, but just listen to me before you start on me, Geoff!” Gavin retorted quickly, sitting up in his seat. Geoff crossed his arms and laid back into the cushions of the couch. “I couldn't just show up at your door or call you and say 'Oh, hey Geoff, the guy who you saw get blown off the face of the planet here to say that I'm okay! Oh, did I never mention that I can't flippin' die? Guess not, because that would have made you blow your lid!'” Gavin slouched back, his expression as pained as Geoff's. It was hard to understand. This bullcrap curse or whatever God put on him made everything harder.

 

Geoff remained silent as he now refused to look him in the eye. It was true, he would have not responded well to it. It was just so odd, the situation they all seem to be in.

 

“You don't even know why I actually left England,” Gavin chuckle, his tone depressed. The room was dead silent, waiting for someone to say _anything_.

 

“I thought you wanted to get away from your parents? The American dream, that kinda thing...” Michael muttered quietly, despite not knowing him at all. Gavin let out a loud _ha_ as he forced a smile.

 

“You want to know why I left? I was 18,” he tapped his fingers on the armrest of the chair as he thought of the best way to go about telling the story. “I was 18 and I saw something I was supposed to see. I saw some kind of drug deal or something, and the three guys grabbed me and then pushed my shit in.”

 

A pin would sound like a bomb if one was to drop. The happy-go-lucky spirit Gavin was known to carry was nonexistence, the burst of pure energy simmered down in Michael. Jack and Geoff's spirits disappeared once they saw the lad in the doorway, but somehow dropped lower.

 

Gavin coughed, trying to clear the air of it's thick aura of sadness. “That was my first time. I was terrified when I first woke up again. I realized that I couldn't face my family, not after receiving the call that their teenage son was beaten to death. So I hacked into my own savings and left the country.”

 

“Oh,” was the only response Geoff to muster up. _Oh. Oh, I never realized. Oh, I never fucking even considered that you were anything but a dumb kid who had a bit of a klepto problem. Oh, I never realized how easy going you were around danger and death and just how well you fit in to this business._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I never intended to add Lindsay in this story, but when I was writing the dialogue for Michael's story (which was supposed to be interrupted early on) my brain just went "DO IT. JUST DO IT" and I said "okay brain!" Needless to say, I really like this idea for how Michael and Lindsay met.
> 
> Anyway, have sad Gavin feelings! Yay!
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments if you like it/want to say something about it!!!! I really appreciate it.


	7. Mean Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew has grown again, with Gavin as the newest addition. Someone is leaving gifts for Geoff in a safehouse that isn't used much and doesn't have a security system, and Geoff plans to catch whoever it is. Shenanigans happen, too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about this fanfic, not completely. Whoops. Sorry, I didn't plan this fic out completely and I just didn't have the inspiration to finish it, so over a month later, it's finally updating! I'll try and stick with a weekly update, every Friday a new chapter. I also been trying to write little drabbles and ficlets, gotten a few updated. Oh, if you haven't seen, I've written a small drabble that happens directly after chapter 6, which I'll link.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4809752
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Also, please don't forget to leave kudos and comments (comments especially aaaaaah)

A couple more months passed by. More than just a few beers shared, too many memories spilled, and plenty of jobs taken and completed, the level of success varying with each. The four of them, Geoff, Jack, Michael, and Gavin, wasn't enough to match those of big crews or to take on much more than a few stores, let alone banks like Geoff planned for them. They knew they couldn't do this, not yet, they didn't have the skill or manpower or unconditional trust of each other.

 

Gavin never asked what happened to his and Geoff's last crew. He already knew what happened well enough to not need an explanation. Geoff never questioned the reason why Gavin left past the day he showed up at his door.

 

Michael and Gavin have bonded in their own special way. Michael pretended he couldn't stand the Brit, but they clicked. There was instant trust between them, when they properly introduced each other.

 

Geoff noticed that someone's been paying regular visits to one of his safehouses, and it wasn't anyone from the crew. It was yet another one that he had inherited from his other crew, just a small 2 bedroom house out in Blaine county. Everything seemed, fine, but the second time Geoff ever got to use the safehouse, about a month ago, he found something odd. Nothing was missing, in fact, he found something there that wasn't there before. The first time, it was a vase of red roses, still alive and fresh. The second time, it was a birthday card, addressed to Geoff. It wasn't near his birthday when it was left, which Geoff sighed a breath of relief when he made the realization. The times after that, the 'gifts got more and more obscure, though Geoff (well, Michael, but he brought it back for Geoff) had it checked every week. The latest gift was a bright pink dildo with a bow and a note that said 'enjoy motherfucker'.

 

“Jesus Christ, they're just fucking with me now,” Geoff rubbed his face with both hands, sighing heavily.

 

“And they weren't when they started? I know who it is, by the way,” Michael commented casually, throwing the dildo onto Gavin's lap, who sat on the couch grinding through Halo 4. Gavin jumped, unsure of what just hit him. Immediately seeing the object that sat in his lap, he launched it at Michael's head. Michael laughed, ducking his head as it flew into the kitchen.

 

“What the fuck, Michael? Have you know this entire time?” Geoff leaned forward onto the counter. “Hand me the dildo, Jack,” Geoff huffed a laugh, grin on his face before he even had it in his hand. Jack happily complied, handing Geoff the dildo, already in position to toss it.

 

“Geoff, Geoff no, what did I do – aagh!” Gavin pleaded before being pelted with the flying pink dildo. Gavin whined, rubbing his arm that he used to protect his face. Geoff spit, laughing so hard and nearly falling off his stool.

 

“Okay, anyway, what the fuck, Michael?” Geoff huffed out one more chuckle, returning to his previous conversation.

 

“Hey, now, chill out. It's just Ray – wait, sorry, Brownman - just fucking around, but I think this is his way of saying he'd like to take you up on that offer, but he won't say it directly. No, you just gotta catch him in the act, offer him the job, say that he doesn't have much of a choice either way, and he'll take it,” Michael admitted, shrugging. Geoff narrowed his eyes, his lips pursed.

 

“So I have to beg him to take the job.”

 

“Uuuh, yup, sounds about right.”

 

“God damn it, why do I do this,” Geoff mumbled to himself, rimming the edge of his glass of whiskey with his index finger.

 

“Hot pink dildo attack!” Gavin called triumphantly, jumping onto Geoff's side, attempting to shove the dildo into Geoff's mouth forcefully. They wrestled on the ground, Gavin's knees on either side of Geoff, who lied halfway between on his side and his back. Geoff gripped the Brit's wrist, pushing the other so now that he is on top and Gavin is underneath him. 

 

“Aww, Gavvy! I'm gonna do it, I'm going to put it in your butt! I'm gonna put it in your butt, Gavin!” Geoff teased, the dildo in question snatched off him and prepared. Gavin squawked as giggles emitted out of everyone, Jack and Michael watching the battle from the sidelines.

 

“Do it! Do it, Geoff!” Michael chanted, pounding his fists on the counter while laughing manically.

 

“Geeoff! Get off of me,” Gavin whined, his fake sobbing ruined by his own laughter. The two collapse in a pile of giggles, the dildo thrown to the side as the two tried to recover.

 

“Oh, god, I'm dying,” Geoff said, his voice wrecked from still chuckling.

 

The rest of the day, nothing was accomplished by dildo ambushes by everyone. The Brownman situation can be dealt with tomorrow, or any other day for that matter.

 

* * *

 

 

Geoff cleared his throat, palms resting on the counter. He was in his suit, again, today. He was going to confront Brownman today, or rather, intercept him when delivering one of his gifts.

 

“So, I should just stake out the place?” Geoff asked Michael, who was eating cereal sloppily, milk and bits of Captain Crunch flying about as he chewed. Honestly, Geoff shouldn't be asking his employee what to do, but Michael was the closest to Brownman, or Ray, as Michael usually forgot to address people by their codenames most times.

 

“Mmn, no, you shoulsh jus' sit on the couch, waitin' for him,” Michael refused to swallow before speaking, making even more of a mess. Michael finally swallowed, Jack physically stopping him from taking another bite before finishing what he was going to say. “He's picking the locks, so he won't expect it. Catch him off guard, he doesn't do handguns, usually, so have a pistol pointed at the door as he breaks in,” Michael finished, Jack removing her hand and permitting him to finish his breakfast.

 

“Alright. I'll be back whenever I have Ray, then,” Geoff nods, giving a way to his crew before heading towards the door. Before Geoff made it to the door, though, Jack gripped his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

 

“Make sure he can't see you, just in case. Close the curtains, just make it seem like every other time he's done this,” Jack warns him, concern in her dark eyes. Geoff's mouth formed a line, just nodding, remembering exactly why he had to follow this advice.

 

“Promise,” he assured her, a lazy grin softening his features. Jack exhaled, showing her own gentle smile. She pat his shoulder, turning away and heading to the couch to watch the news.

 

* * *

 

 

The safehouse was left the same way as he left it, the way it's been for years now, actually. Standard, staged furniture, lights left off, and nothing else. It wasn't lived in, and even when it was used, they would stay no longer than a 6 hours then move to a better safehouse, if needed. It was stuffy, dust settling on everything but the coffee table that sat between the couch and the old television. That's where the gifts were left, each and every time.

 

Geoff sighed, wishing he would have gone in cooler clothing. It was too hot and stuffy to be sitting in here for God knows how long in a full suit. He shook the blazer off, folding it in his arm. He checked all the curtains and anything else that Ray could possible see him. Once he deemed it safe, he plopped down on the uncomfortable, ugly couch.

 

“This is going to be a long wait, isn't it,” He muttered to himself, setting the blazer in his lap to roll up his shirt sleeves. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and head resting on his hands.

 

He nearly dozed off until he heard distinctive clicking noises coming from the door.  _About time, I've been sitting here for eternity waiting for you ass to show up_ , Geoff thought to himself. He grabbed the pistol that he had set on the coffee table some time ago, cocking it and pointing directly at the door. He leaned back in the couch, propping his feet up on the table in front of him.  _Yeah, make him think you're 10x more suave than you actually are, pretend._

 

Ray opened the door only enough to squeeze through, immediately turning his back to close the door firmly behind him. When he turned, Geoff could tell the kid nearly shit himself at the sight of Geoff sitting there casually pointing a pistol at him. Ray's eyes bulged out, holding back a shriek from the back of his throat, chest beating rapidly. He held a bouquet – a bouquet of...dildos. Assorted colored dildos arranged like a bouquet of flowers.

 

“Oh fuck - ahaha this is a mistake, I thought this was my friend's house so uh whoops I should-” Ray rushed to begged, hands above his head, the shock still not out of his system.

 

“So, do you want the job or not, punk?” Geoff grinned wickedly, his hand unwavering but his attitude much calmer.

 

“Wha-what?” Ray stuttered, eyes still bulged out and brow knitted together in confusion.

 

“Do you want the job or not?” Geoff repeated, his tone changing to slightly threatening. He lowered the pistol, only a few inches, but the action put Ray in ease anyway.

 

“Why?” Ray questioned, not trusting Geoff.

 

“Because you're a good sniper? God damn, you offer someone a job and they have no trust in you,” Geoff shot back, playing Ray like a fiddle now. Pretending to be his hotshot kingpin was enjoyable, at this point. Maybe it was becoming more of a reality and no longer pretending, though, Geoff wouldn't allow himself to think so. That's how his last crew crumbled – the kingpin got cocky, not taking account that other crews are competent enough to take them down.

 

“Uh, okay, fuck,” Ray responded, shaking his head and gripping his hair. Some of the dildos that were arranged fell to the ground, bouncing around. Geoff held back a laugh at that.

 

“All you have to do is say yes or no, and if you say yes, I'll forgive you for all this, even the dildos,” Geoff offered, setting the pistol in his lap and setting his feet on the floor. “Job security, a crew that has your back, money, what else could you want?”

 

“Okay, okay, yes, yes I'll join,” Ray answered, nodding. Geoff smiled at him, nodding back.

 

“Is that why you've been doing all this? So this would happen?” Geoff asked, genuinely curious.

 

“I guess? I dunno,” Ray shrugged, leaving the answer vague. Geoff stood up, bones creaking only a little, and walked over to the younger. He clapped him on the shoulder.

 

“You ready for initiation?” Ray coughed, the situation at hand still too weird to him.

 

“Sure.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is supposed to be a serious fanfic. Where did my mind dredge up the pink dildo? Only god knows tbh
> 
> Anyway, the crew is almost all there! At least the main 6.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and please leave kudos and comments <3 I love you all!
> 
> \- Tucker (feel free to address me as such if you leave me a comment :O )

**Author's Note:**

> I hope my characterizations aren't terrible and I hope no one hates this. I hoped you liked this first chapter because I had a lot of fun writing this, actually. I feel like I'm gonna have fun writing all the chapters, however many that is.
> 
> Next chapter maaaaaaaay be short, but I don't know.  
> [Edit:I was wrong. It's going to be about the same size as this chapter. Also, I've planned out (very vaguely} the chapters 3 and 4 as well. :D]


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